I learned to not attach myself to my “story.”
One of the most painful, revealing lessons came during a group sharing session, where we went around in a small group sharing what was bubbling up for us. When it was my turn I started to talk about a particular issue that had been troubling me. My teacher stopped me and gently pointed out that what I was talking about seemed rehearsed and that maybe I wasn’t speaking from my heart. This was absolutely true.
I had come to the circle with a prepared topic, I was just following my own rehearsed dialog. But in that moment, I felt frustrated and not heard. Hot, angry, embarrassed tears boiled over in my eyes. Why couldn’t I just tell my story the way I wanted to tell it? The answer: because I’m not my story. I’m not the pain that happened in the past. I’m not my achievements. I’m not the story of suffering and joy I attach myself to. Revelation. Game changer. I’m not my story.
I learned how to love everyone around me (even the ones that pissed me off).
When you put 25 people together all day, every day for 30 days you’re bound to find some personalities challenging and even triggering. My yoga teacher training was no exception. Some of the same dramas of grade school played out in the yoga classroom, complete with a drama queen or two, teacher’s pets and cliques. But damn if I didn’t love everyone in the whole class.
I loved everyone in my class unconditionally. I allowed myself to be loved back without question. I cultivated a serious sense of lovingkindness for every person on the course. Even the ones that challenged me. The all day, every day yoga classes, meditations and yogic philosophy lessons created a little incubator for developing so much love for the people around me. I was floating around on a little love cloud and whenever I’m feeling particularly judgemental here in “real life world”, I remember this.
I learned how to enjoy my own company and sit in silence.
I grew up on a busy city block in Philadelphia, with rowhome stacked upon rowhome and at least 30 kids on my block. I shared a teeny tiny room with my younger sister until I was 18… then shared a room again in college. My opportunities for privacy and silence were few and I usually filled up the gaps with people, places, music, movies, things, noises.
Until my training, I had very few moments of silence. When my teacher instructed us to find a quiet spot every morning to meditate before class, I felt uncertain and almost resentful. But I want to use my quiet time to think, not to not think. I wanted to use that quiet time to plan my day, life, future, next meal, anything really. But being ever the good student, I agreed and slowly learned how to enjoy sitting in silence with myself.
I learned that what I perceived as big, bad, boogeyman flaws in myself were no big deal to anyone else.
The biggest of these revelations concerned my clammy hands. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always had clammy, sweaty hands. Even now while I type this they’re a little bit damp for no good reason. When I arrived at my training, little did I know that almost every night I’d be holding hands with my fellow students dancing around in a circle and singing. Shit. I don’t want to. But I do want to.
I love holding hands and dancing. But I don’t want people to think I’m weird because my hands are always clammy and I’m insecure about it. So I held hands and danced and felt insecure, but the more that I did it, the better I felt.
When I confessed my insecurity to the rest of the class, most of the people had never even noticed and my friends told me it really was no big deal. It felt great to hear this and at the end of the training, I was right in the center of the circle, holding the hands of my dear friends and dancing.
I learned that being a yoga teacher isn’t about mastering all of the most difficult yoga poses or sitting in meditation for hours per day.
It’s about inspiring others to be kinder, more patient, happier and loving. To create a safe space for others to explore their edge and their pain and as they shed their layers of self-doubt and uncertainty, to show them how to revel in their awesome strength. I see this as one of the greatest gifts I’ve received and now the greatest gift that I can give. By training other teachers, I get to indirectly alter the lives of so many others, making the world a better, more awesome place.